


Tough Love

by JasnNCarly



Series: Jon Moxley (Dean Ambrose) & You [52]
Category: Professional Wrestling, WWE, World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: F/M, Tumblr, greygirlmoxley, wwe imagine
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-26
Updated: 2016-06-26
Packaged: 2020-05-20 00:51:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,701
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19366927
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JasnNCarly/pseuds/JasnNCarly
Summary: You have no idea what make things right other than this.





	1. Chapter 1

When his music hits, your eyes seek the available monitor. Tears mist your vision as you watch him race out to confront Kevin Owens – the guy that helped to injure him. The crowd goes wild, and your heart drops. You had no clue he would return tonight; ignoring a couple questioning glances surrounding, you make your way out of the room and straight towards your locker room.

“(Y/N)!”

“Not now.”

“Wait.”

“I said not now.” You don’t have the chance to slam the door in his face because he swerves in front of you to block entry, “Roman, we’re not talking. Not right now.”

“You know he’s expecting to see you.”

“Tough shit. I’m outta here.” You try to push past, only to have him calmly stop you again, “I get it. You’re his friend, and you wanna help out. Right now, the best thing you can do is let me leave this damn arena.”

Roman rolls his eyes, stepping out of the way, “What do I tell him when he asks about you?”

“Tell him, I said welcome back,” You pause closely the door, adding, “And fuck you.”

——————————————————-

You made it out of there before the show had ended. Thank God for small favors. Traffic was dead enough for you to daredevil weave once you had passed the security near the show’s location. You are forced to pull an abrupt break at a red light. You slam your hands against the steering wheel in absolute frustration; sure your heart is going to explode in your chest…for all the wrong reasons.

It’s been six months. Six months since he pushed you away. Six months since he asked for space. Six months since he shut you out to deal with this injury all on his own. Six months since he let you down, broke your heart along with the trust you had in him.

The honking car behind you receives a prompt middle finger before you take off again.

——————————————————-

Your phone crashes to the floor from all the vibrating, and you curse yourself for not turning the damn thing off. You unbury your head from under the pillow, trying to reach for your phone only to realize the bed is too high.

“Are you KIDDING me!” You huff out of bed, pick up the phone, and fall back. Unlocking your screen, you see multiple missed calls and messages. Curiosity provokes you to clear the phone notifications but open your messages. Flipping through what’s immediately under their names.

_Paige: What happened tonight?_

_Fox: Are you okay?_

You feel like a fool; everyone will ask you about this tomorrow. You open Roman’s messages.

_I delivered your message. He didn’t take it well. He wants to talk._

You pause again, putting the phone down for a moment and staring at the ceiling. If he wanted to talk, he should have dialed you months ago. He could’ve texted. He could have sent a fucking email to warn you he was coming back. He did none of that.

You pick up the phone again, scrolling to his name and seeing a new message.

_Call me._

Two words. That’s all you get after six months. Great.

——————————————————-

“You wanna talk about it?”

“Nope.” You pick up your pace on the treadmill, ignoring your girls and trying to run until your legs fall off, “I’d be happy to act like none of it ever happened, thanks.” From the corners of your eyes, you see them mouthing things to each other. You shake your head, wishing you had bought a new set of headphones, “It’s over. Whatever it was ended a long time ago.”

“…that’s not the impression we got last night.” Fox speaks despite Paige trying to shush her, “He came looking for you.”

“Doesn’t matter.”

Paige can’t help herself, “Not even a little bit?”

“No, not anymore.” You stop the machine abruptly, grabbing your things, “I’m sorry. I gotta go clear my head. I’ll call you later or something.”

Though they protest, you wave it off and exit the gym. Fishing through your bag, you end up walking right into an incoming gym member. You groan, finding your keys and getting past them, “Sorry.”

“It’s okay.”

The way the crack interrupts his husky tone, you know exactly who it is, and pick up speed.

“(Y/N)!” You make it to your car, slamming the door shut and starting your car. You almost avoid any contact with him, until he pulls your door open, “(Y/N), you’re gonna have to talk to me sooner or later.”

“No, I don’t. Now close the door,” You mess up when your eyes lock on his, flashing to every time you’ve been happy because of that same stare. You fight tears, facing out your window and lowering your voice, “I can’t do this with you right now. I’m glad you recovered. I’m glad your back. But you made a choice, and now I’m doing the same.” You release a long sigh, warning him you are about to lose your temper, “ ** **Please**** , shut the door.”

Dean does as you request; your car squeaks out of the space; you try to avoid a look back. You fail. All you see is Dean ready to rip his hair out.


	2. Chapter 2

_Please_.

The second message from Dean does nothing to change your mind; you’re also pretty pissed because you think Paige and Fox set you up for the gym run-in. Beyond all that, you could not resist Roman’s request to meet.

Roman knew everything about the ‘break’ and had helped you to cope. You wanted his advice yet dreaded it all the same; if he was the middle man, he’d have plenty to say to both of you.

You sit across from him with a timid smile, ordering a very stiff drink. When he rubs his hands together, exhaling a deep breath, you feel the need to defend your position immediately, “I ran into him. I told him the truth – I was happy he was okay – and I left.”

“Mm-hmm, that much I know.” Roman crosses his arms and leans on the table, “Now, give me the rest of it.”

“What rest?”

“You know you’ve got to handle this, point blank, with him  _soon._  You two work together, and you have to at least keep it cordial.”

You hang your head, “Listen, unless he’s a part of my next Divas match, I don’t think we have much to discuss.”

“Don’t.” His order causes you to look up into his eyes, “You’re better than that.”

You pause, knowing exactly what he means. You’re sick of being the bigger person, reaching out to be rejected. The time to be a bitch had arrived, and you were answering the call.

“You couldn’t give him five minutes at the gym? Neutral territory?”

You squirm in your chair, “No, because it was a sneak attack that I didn’t appreciate.”

“He didn’t call or text you the other night?”

“He got space. He asked, I gave it to him, and somehow I’m still paying for not being okay with it. How does this make any sense? Even to you!” You allow him to contemplate your frustration, downing half of your drink and growling as it burns your throat, “I would’ve done anything for him. This is how I got repaid.”

“He knows that, trusts it so much he did what he did.” Roman stares away before leaning closer in, “I shouldn’t tell you any of this, but he asked for space because of you. He didn’t want you to put anything on hold because of what was happening to him.”

“Then, he should have discussed that with me. He should have given me a choice, and he didn’t.” You try to ignore the truth of his words to hold onto the hurt, “Dean broke a promise to me when he turned his back. There’s no going back.”

——————————————————-

“(Y/N)!” You interrupt your stretches as Fox approaches you, “What are you doing after the show tonight?”

“Nothing.” You give her a dirty look, stretching your arm across your chest, “Especially with you, after what you two did.”

“It’s not what you think.” She throws her arms up in surrender, “But I can see why you thought it was, so Paige and I want to take you out for drinks.”

It sounds great. Cool down time. You groan, biting your lip, “…I don’t know…”

“What’s the worst that could happen, huh? A group of people are going…including Finn.” Her words peak your interest; she rubs her stomach and whispers, “You know the one with the abs.”

“Ugh…fine!” You stop stretching, placing your hands on your hips, “I’m sure I’m going to regret this, but…I’m down.”

——————————————————-

No house show tomorrow had made you all excited to enjoy the night. When you missed Dean at the arena, you almost sent him a ‘thank you’ text for giving you a break. Now, enjoying the rowdy bar with divas and superstars, you smile for the first time since Dean’s return.

You down another shot with Fox and Paige, all of you collectively ‘wooing’, before you lean over to Paige’s ear, “Another round?”

“I gotta take a break. One of us has to be able to call a cab.”

“Fine.” You pout and take a seat on the nearest bar stool as Paige laughs with Fox, “…thank you guys for inviting me. I kinda love you for that.”

Fox blows out a laugh, “She’s drunk.”

“Nope,” You confidently counter, “I’m happily buzzed though.” You twist your fingers around each other, “Can organize—my thoughts.

“Riiiight…” Paige shakes her head, watching as you’re approached, “Look alive, girls.”

“Any of you ladies wanna play?” Finn’s invitation makes the three of you eyeball him, “Pool. We need anot’er player.”

“(Y/N) would love to!” Paige pulls you off your seat, shoving you towards him, “She can still organize her thoughts.”

“Great. Come on,” Finn gently takes your hand and leads you towards the others, “You okay?”

“I dunno.” You start to feel somewhat lightheaded, especially as he pauses your journey and looks into your eyes, “I think I went—had a little too much.”

“Maybe you should—”

A third party intervenes, “It’s all right. I got her.”

“No,” The second you hear his voice, you shake your head, “Nope, he doesn’t.” You know that hand sliding around your waist and stabilizing your body against his; you look into Finn’s confused eyes, “He’s a total asshole. Don’t leave me around this guy.”

“Finn, I got this.” Dean’s severe tone causes him to release your hand, especially after Dean gives him a death stare for the contact, “It’s time to go.”

“Get the hell off me.” You nearly lose your balance when you shove him away; though you are a little fuzzy, you know the directions away from him. Slamming out the front door, you inhale a deep breath of the freezing air and try to gain your wits.  You almost lose your footing, his strong arms embrace your waist, and you don’t know if you can fight him a second time.

Holding you tight against him, preventing you from going anywhere, Dean speaks against your hair, “We have to get you home.”

“What the hell does that even mean?” You claw your way out of his hold, taking a few steps and stumbling into the alleyway.

Dean is right there again, securing you against brick and looking into your eyes, “I just want to make sure you’re safe.”

“Right, because everyone in there is ready to let me get hurt.” You slap his hands off your shoulders, leaning back against the wall, “No more sneak attacks. Just leave me alone.”

“No.”

His tone is set; you’re supposed to listen to him. Dean grabs your face with his hands, forcing you to stare into his blue depths; that stare possesses remorse and hurt – the kind you’ve been carrying for some time. When his frustration causes him to drop his forehead against yours, you feel your heart leap. It’s too much. He’s too close. There’s too much there, including your broken heart, and you want him to feel that – you need him to know how bad he’s hurt you. You give him a kiss that robs you both of air; you are patient and wait for him to melt against you, his hands cupping your face as his body pins you.

Once you feel he’s lost all words, you travel your hands up his chest and push him with all your might. As he stares at you, dazed, you stand straight – sobered by the seconds, “Enjoy your comeback, Ambrose.”


	3. Chapter 3

“So…you left us hanging the other night?” Fox’s question came out like a low purr, her eyes suggesting she knew something more than she did, “You kind of left Finn, too.”

“And I bet you had no problem being there for him, did you Foxy?” You two share a girlish laugh as you fix the laces of your boot, “You two look good together.”

“We do, but for some reason he’s a little resistant to my charms.” Fox hopped up to a seat on the crate with you, “The bigger question is what happened with your crazy man.”

That night was a little blurry, but the kiss was fresh in mind. You were set to answer her, dying to tell someone how stupid you were, when Dean passed the two of you. He said nothing, staring straight ahead and flexing his hands in preparation of his match.

Fox made a sad face, beginning to rub your back, “I guess it could’ve been better.”

“…yeah.”

——————————————————-

The next big show is in your hometown. You have the opportunity to collapse in the safety of your own apartment, and it’s a welcome change after the week you’ve had. Your last move had the desired effect on Dean; he had left you alone. It was back to normal with no calls or surprise visits.

You feel overwhelmed with warmth and peace; your space without anyone else’s negativity. You grab a water, heading to your couch, and switching the TV on – flipping channels would put you to sleep. Your eyelids become heavier with each channel you move onto; a light knock on your door prevents your slumber.

Checking your shorts and tank top, you briefly debate your comfy before heading over to the door; on your tiptoes, you look through the peephole to see nothing but darkness. You cross your arms, talking through the door, “You want me to open this then I better see you.”

“I just need five minutes to talk to you.” Dean’s voice is not angry or loud, but it’s stern, “Come on, (Y/N), this is your prime opportunity to get rid of me.”

You tap your fingers against your lips, unaware if it’s nerves or biting bitterness. You take your time to slide the chain out and undo the other lock. Without saying anything, you open the door and signal him inward.

Dean says not one smart word or extra greeting, moving carefully into the space. You shut the door and notice him fidgeting with a picture on the in-table; you cuss yourself under your breath, knowing it’s an old picture of the two of you. Dean taps the glass with an index finger, glancing back at you, to receive your cold invitation, “Want to take a seat?”

He gives you a nod before sitting on the couch. You need the distance and opt for the comfy chair nearby. Dean notices your movement, but it doesn’t deter him, “I know you don’t get why I made the decision I did. I get why you’re pissed. But—I did it for us. Not against us.”

“I’ve heard this. And I’m watching the clock.”

He smiles, biting back anger, “You were so close to a push, and I got injured. Me. Not you. It wasn’t your burden to have.”

You pinch your lips together, wanting to punch him square in the face. Here he goes, making excuses for hurting you.

“When I woke up after the surgery, I remember you being right there.”

You glance over at him, noting his mood change - his head is hung in shame. He appears to be lost in his words as he pushes syllables out and riddled with guilt. Pushing your anger aside, you stand up and move to a seat on the couch, keeping a couple inches between you, “And?”

“I knew I would ruin everything for you if I kept you there.”  He balls his hands into fists, still staring at the floor, “I had to get myself together, and I didn’t want you to have to put everything on hold for me. You didn’t need to be at that rehab center or anywhere else near me. I didn’t want you punished for my mistake.”

This is the way his head works? He thought he was doing a favor for you?

You can’t leave him thinking that, and you scoot up to him. You begin to stroke his hair with one hand and use your free hand to unlock his fist, lacing your fingers. Your contact with him causes him to lift his head a little higher, his eyes fixate on your curled fingers.

“I did it because I didn’t want you to hate me. So you wouldn’t blame me when your push got lost in shuffle.” Dean finally looked over his shoulder, honesty in his stare, “I did it because I love you, (Y/N).”

He hadn’t said it before, and this was a hell of a time for the proclamation. You start to become too nervous, torn between your feelings for and about him. You cease contact, putting your hands in your lap, “I—I love you, too.”

Dean scoots back on the couch, turning his body to face yours, “Then, we can fix this.”

“How?” You hate yourself for the tears appearing before him, “You hurt me so bad. To go so long and have nothing to say – act like I did something wrong. I—you left me. Not the other way around, and I should’ve had a choice. You didn’t give me that.”

“I know.” Dean puts a hand on your thigh, “I’m sorry I hurt you.”

“…I just don’t know if that’s enough.”


	4. Chapter 4

You need distance; you can’t be that close and keep fighting. You stand to your feet, starting to pace back and forth, “I trusted you, and I feel like I can’t now.”

“Why?”

“Because you didn’t trust me, Dean!”

“I did trust you! I still do!” He gets up, moving to block your frantic pace, “I knew you would be there every day if I let you.”

“I don’t get how this ass backwards thinking is supposed to get me to forgive you! To do us again like we didn’t lose everything a long time ago!”

“Are you still in love with me?” Dean waits, but you refuse to answer, “Okay, are you seeing someone else?”

“Oh, sure, ‘cause I’m a ring rat. I’m just seeing how many guys I can knock off the roster.”

It must come out more obviously sarcastic than you want it to because it elicits a smile from him, “Okay, did that kiss the other night mean nothing.”

“…I wanted to hurt you.”

“You did.” His admittance makes you jump inside, small triumph, “Do you want to keep hurting me?” You can’t say the word, so you just shake your head, “Do you want me to leave?”

You don’t know what to say. You’ve been doing great, keeping him away and regretting what he’s done. Full of frustration, you strike him with your stare, “I want to know that you hurt as much as I did, that you really understand what you put me through.”

“I went through it with you.” Dean catches your hand, tugging your body to his, “I missed you every day, but I was smiling when I saw you kicking ass.”

You get quiet, “…doesn’t make it okay.”

“I will make this right.”

His hands cup your face, and he’s close again. You can smell him, and it’s heaven. It’s familiar. It’s home. His warm breath, brushing your lips, makes your life downright impossible, “You just have to give me a chance to do it. You have to believe me and know I never meant to fuck up this bad.”

“Dean…”

You know he can’t take it anymore as he forces his lips upon yours; when it happens, you let out a moan that sounds like he’s just struck you and caused immense pain. The sound makes him pull away, searching your eyes for the source, and you miss him even more. He knows everything about you, including the things you don’t say, and you still love him.

“Okay,” Dean clears his throat, his palms caressing your biceps, “Could we meet somewhere tomorrow and talk? You can call me?”

“No…”

He inhales, “No?”

You allow your actions to speak louder than words, interlacing your fingers with his once more and squeezing his hand; knowing you will regret it in the morning, wishing you could resist, you allow yourself to take him into your bedroom.

Luckily, Dean follows but knows his limits. He gets into the room and waits. You shut your bedroom door, still questioning whether you are making a good decision. He must pick up on it, because he comes up behind you as you remain facing the door. Sliding his arms around your waist and burying his face in the crook of your neck, he holds you tight and makes no other movement. It is enough to make you shut your eyes and fight tears; you hug his arms tighter around your body and lean back into his hold.

Dean sighs against your neck, “I missed you.”

Your voice cracks, “I missed you.”

He places a soft kiss, lingering at that spot of your neck, and loosens his hold for you to turn in his arms. Following his signal, you face him; Dean wipes away a few of your stray tears, “I promise you. Never again, no matter what.”

“I wanna believe you, but I—”

“I will show you.” He drops down just slightly, coiling his arms around you and lifting you just off your tiptoes, “I’ll prove it to you.”

You can’t help but smile as he does this, allowing him to bring you to the foot of your bed. If there was anything that could make you forget everything you’ve ever known, it would be  _this_.

Dean sets you on the bed and kneels in front of you; his eyes look like sapphires in your moonlit room, his voice is husky as he speaks again, “Tell me you want me to stay.”

Reaching out to stroke his cheek, you feel weak and confess, “I never wanted you to leave me in the first place.” You withdraw your touch, biting your lip, “Dean, I don’t—if you leave—”

“I love you.” His words make you tumble into his stare again; once he knows you’re with him again, Dean rubs your outer thighs. It’s meant to be supportive, not the least bit suggestive, and you appreciate the gesture, “I don’t know how to start, but I just need you to say you want me. I know I have no right to ask, but I just—I need this from you.”

“I needed that for months, and you didn’t say a word.”

“I’m on my knees, in front of you right now, begging you to give me a second chance,” Dean pauses, waiting for his words to register a reluctant smile from your lips, “You want me to shout it from the rooftops? Broadcast it on television?”

“…maybe.”

“I’ll get it on it then.” You stop him, pressing down on his shoulders and keeping him in his spot; his dimples appear, knocking out your last protest, “Say it.”

“Dean…”

Kissing his way up your neck, you can feel him smiling against your skin, “Say it, (Y/N).”

You tilt your head when he slightly sucks at the sweet spot of your neck, “…I will give you a chance…I want you back.”

His palms move over your thighs, spreading your legs. Your hands tangle in his hair, forcing him to maintain your locked stare, as he slides his hands under the hem of your shirt. The second he runs a smooth stroke along your waist, you almost feel nervous. It is as bad as your first night together. You’re afraid you’ll be impatient, afraid things will be rushed and clumsy, afraid that you’re not ready for this step yet.

You’ve completely regress in confidence, and you need to remind yourself that this man is yours. He wants your forgiveness, not the other way around. Leaning forward, you take time to kiss his lips – first the top, then the bottom, then together. Your action clearly has an effect as he stops all motion; while he’s enjoying your attention, you slide his jacket off his shoulders and allow it fall to the ground. You pull away, peeling his shirt up and glancing at his abs – they’ve become more defined during his absence from WWE. It causes you to lose train of thought and swallow hard; there goes your confidence again.

Your eyes work to memorize his deeply defined muscle edges, and you want to run out of the room. Now, you wonder what he’s expecting from his view of you. By no means are you out of shape, working every day since his departure, but you know you haven’t been living in the gym like he obviously has. You crawl back onto the bed a little, wondering what excuse could buy you a night of consideration. Obviously, Dean fails to receive this message and gets up to hover his body above yours. You open your mouth to say something but, again, your signal is lost in translation because his mouth against yours and his tongue is in your mouth. His kiss is hungry, starved for your attention, and you know that not one excuse can stop him.

He has a terrible time seducing you when the two of you haven’t touched in months. Before you can slow things down again, he is completely nude and so are you. You feel him near your entrance, yet he pauses everything. His body pins yours against the mattress, and one of his hands strokes your hair, remorse clouding his features, “Your hair’s longer.”

It’s random, but it’s incredibly sweet. Suddenly, you know he’s thought about you as much as you’ve thought him. He has been wondering where you’re at, what you’re up to, and who you’ve been around. He’s wondered if he’s ever deserved you and if things will ever get back to where they were. You want to thank him, to express how much you understand, but instead you nod.

“Your lips are softer, too.”

You chuckle, “Well, I haven’t had you around to chap them.”

He smiles into another kiss, “Well, I can fix that.”

In that moment, you are happy. You feel like no time has really passed, and his love is spoken through the smallest action. Curving your hands around his hips, you pull him into you. The unified moan between you assures both that the right decision has been made. You move together in a beautiful rhythm that you’ve only found with each other; it is quick because neither of you is patient – both anxious to be one again – and the wave is washing over both of you before you can fully appreciate what’s happened. That said, it’s absolutely perfect.

When you curl into him beneath the covers, your whole body feels deliciously relaxed. Tomorrow, you will wake up to him and start over.

“Are you okay?”

You nestled his chest, placing a kiss on his skin, “Mm-hmm.”

“…I might actually sleep tonight.”

“Mm-hmm.” You try to stay awake and give him attention; yet your body is not in agreement. As Dean’s fingers run along your spine, it coaxes you further towards sleep.

That is until he asks one last question, “What’s going on with you and Finn?”


End file.
